


Unruly in the Stands

by mthrfkrgdhrwego (universalchampbalor)



Category: Professional Wrestling
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Heel Miz, M/M, Pining, Slight Obsession, give me more soft heels, heel Daniel Bryan, set the SD after Bryan's heel turn, this was an almost decade long feud that counts as pining right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-10 23:54:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20144089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/universalchampbalor/pseuds/mthrfkrgdhrwego
Summary: Miz tries to bring it back, back to him, back to them, back to everything that’s gone on in the past almost fucking decade. That’s what’s important, that’s what matters, that’s why they’re here. They’re here because of Miz, because of Bryan, because of them, not because of a stupid leather strap and a pair of bruised redneck balls.





	Unruly in the Stands

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently I wrote this when DBry turned heel and then just. Never posted this?????? Oh well, here it is

Daniel Bryan turned, and Miz is fucking furious.

He knows he shouldn’t be; hasn’t he been trying to provoke this for years? Hasn’t he wanted this as much as he wanted to leave Bryan broken? The answer to both is a resounding  _ yes _ (Miz tries not to think about Bryan’s dumb fucking chant) but despite that, he’s still absolutely pissed.

Maybe it’s because he chose to do it in a match against Styles. Yeah, he knows it’s a title match, and it got him a win, but  _ still _ . It was supposed to be  _ Miz _ . It’s always supposed to come back to  _ him _ .

And it doesn’t this time. This time, it came around to Styles, to a low blow, to a title win, to the light changing in Bryan’s eyes. He’s cold now, calculating in a dangerous way. His smile and the crinkles around his eyes are no longer bright. They’re sharp, deep, almost like scars, like wounds.

It makes Miz sick.

It comes to a head on MizTV. 

Bryan goes on a rant, yelling about sins and water bottles and shit that Miz has honestly never thought about before. There’s a  _ fire _ in Bryan’s eyes, but it isn’t right. This isn’t the controlled burn of ambition, the glow of hope and everything that’s  _ fucking good _ in this world that Miz has gotten used to. No, it’s a wildfire, out of control and ruining every damn thing in its path.

Miz tries to bring it back, back to  _ him _ , back to  _ them, _ back to everything that’s gone on in the past almost fucking decade.  _ That’s _ what’s important,  _ that’s _ what matters,  _ that’s _ why they’re here. They’re here because of  _ Miz, _ because of  _ Bryan _ , because of  _ them _ , not because of a stupid leather strap and a pair of bruised redneck balls.

When Bryan tells Miz “ _ It doesn’t matter,” _ he feels something in his stomach collapse. Something in his very core, something that’s been holding him upright for the past eight years, breaks.

“ _ The only thing that matters is that the old Daniel Bryan is  _ ** _dead._ ** ”

It hurts, more than a spear, a superkick, than Brock Lesnar trying to beat him to paste, more than every damn bump he’s taken in 15  _ fucking years _ in this industry.

Miz doesn’t even process Styles coming to the ring until Bryan pushes him into the former champion. He goes down and instinctively latches onto Styles’ ankle- once a fighter, always a fighter, he supposes. He gets left in the ring, barely able to see the scuffle unfolding at ringside and into the crowd.

Miz can hear a sharp  _ yelp _ of pain when Styles uses a fistful of hair to drag Bryan around, and he sees red. The next thing he processes, Bryan is in the ring next to him and he’s trying to erase the facial features of Styles. 

He ends up saving Bryan with a skull crushing finale, and he has to watch the neurotic champion stumble up the ramp. There’s a long moment of eye contact, and Miz sees a little bit of the Daniel Bryan he… he knew… in the younger man’s eyes.

He doesn’t get any chance to confront Bryan. Instead, he gets backstage, and can’t find the squirrelly fucker. He’s scampered off somewhere, and there are officials and others trying to get him ready for his match. 

_ Fuck, his match. _

He’s so wrapped up in the bullshit Bryan’s brought on that he entirely forgot about the match Paige made for him and Styles. He can’t even focus during the match, for fuck’s sake. Instead, he has an ear out, an eye out, to watch Bryan, who’s sitting on commentary rambling about… something or another. He can’t hear it, but he can see the fire in Bryan's eyes, can see the  _ passion _ on his face, cold and almost clinical.

He gets pinned, and he can’t even focus enough to be pissed about it.

He chases after the champion as soon as he can, tries to find where the bastard is. He has a habit of disappearing backstage, somehow finding the  _ one room _ no one can find. 

He’s vaguely aware of someone trying to get his attention, of a hand trying to get him to stop, but he blows past. He hears something that he later registers as Asuka shouting after him in stilted English and furious Japanese. His brain doesn’t give a shit, and he keeps checking every room he can find.

Eventually, Miz finds Bryan in a small, almost empty room, buried on the other side of the fucking arena. He’s standing, shifting his weight restlessly, facing the wall opposite the door. He’s still in that fucking sweater. His hair is a little wild, is haloing around his head in the sickly green fluorescent light.

“What the fuck is going on with you?” Miz’s hands come up as he speaks, threatening to smack into the doorframe. He hasn’t even stepped into the room before he’s exploding.

Bryan turns on his heel, slow and almost lazy. There’s an almost wild light in his eyes, something harried and panicked. Something squishes deep near Miz’s spine as he looks at Bryan.

_ Something’s wrong. _

“What’s wrong?” Miz doesn’t know  _ why _ he’s concerned. This is a man he’s supposed to hate. This is a man he  _ does _ hate. Why is he helping him sit, why is he handing him water,  _ why does he want to run his hands through Daniel’s hair? _

“Everything’s changed, Mike.” The smaller man mumbles. His eyes are wide, a little wet. Miz can’t bring himself to correct the name. 

“What do you mean, everything’s changed? The only thing that’s changed around here is…. _ you.”  _ Miz doesn’t know if those are the right words, doubts they are, but he says them anyway. He’s not  _ good _ at this, isn’t  _ good _ at comforting people, never has been, never will be. But hey, he’s never been a quitter, never been one to back down from a challenge, so he’s gonna try his damndest.

Daniel- _ Bryan _ , Miz has to remind himself, because no matter how… how  _ soft _ he looks right now, this is still an  _ enemy _ , still someone to see as a threat and nothing more. Still, there’s something in Bryan’s eyes that makes Miz’s heart stutter, makes his knees go weak, makes him feel something he hasn’t felt since his first girlfriend all the way back in high school. Bryan looks at him with eyes filled with emotions Miz can’t name.

“That’s what I mean! I changed and now… now, everything's different.” Bryan laughs a little as he speaks, a bright little sound that’s a little wrong in a few places. It sounds a hell of a lot more like the Daniel of old, though, so Miz supposes it’s a step in the right direction.

Miz sits down next to Bryan. He’s still in his ring gear, so he doesn’t have to worry about dirtying his suit with whatever filth is on the floor. There’s a long moment of silence, so loud it’s tangible, that settles over the room like wet wool.

Eventually, Bryan tilts his head to look at the ceiling and says, “I realized I don’t really…. _ like _ people anymore.” His voice is soft, like cotton, but it comes out wrong, the way a cotton ball would rasp a voice if stuck in the throat. The muscles in his neck, the tendons, are pulled tight, and for some reason, Miz has never found anything more beautiful.

“They’re… messy. People, relationships, all of it. It’s too much to deal with. It’s effort that I could spend doing something… productive. And I know I’m not gonna change their minds. No matter how much I talk and ramble and  _ preach _ , they aren’t gonna change. No matter what.” His voice is getting stiller, lower, almost silent in a silent room. Miz has to strain to hear him.

There’s a long stretch where they’re just… sitting there, sitting next to each other, in silence that isn’t quite companionable but isn’t all that unpleasant, either. They’re just. There. Existing.

It’s a nice change of pace.

Miz uses the time to examine Bryan. He looks mostly the same. His hair is still down to his shoulders and turns randomly at the ends, his beard is still wild and tamed at the same time, his skin is still pale and looks softer than Miz can imagine, his nose is still crooked from too many hits landing wrong. His eyes are getting softer, the blue-grey of them more like the ocean than a storm-ravaged sky. 

He’s beautiful.

“Why are you telling me this? Me, of all people?” Miz asks, scoffs, a little incredulous. He looks at Bryan looking at the ceiling and has to fight the urge to brush his hair behind his ear. It looks so soft and Miz almost can’t stop himself from running his fingers through it.

“You’re one of the few people I like.”

Daniel’s voice is so quiet Miz almost doesn’t hear him. When he does register what he’s heard, he doesn’t believe it. He simply stares at Daniel in disbelief, gapes at him, waits for him to say something else,  _ anything _ else.

“Wh- Me?” Miz laughs, a little incredulous, a pothered edge to his voice. “I’ve made your life a living hell for almost a  _ decade _ .” He over-enunciates the last word, gestures vaguely with his hands as if it’ll help get his point across.

“Believe me, it makes even less sense to me.” Daniel chuckles, thumping his head back against the wall. There’s a pause before he drops his head against Miz’s shoulder.

“This is weird.” Miz says when he feels Daniel’s hand sneaking into his. “This is really weird.” He repeats, leaning into the younger man’s heat. “This is weird, right?” He asks, turning to look at Daniel.

“Yeah, this is weird.” Daniel laughs. He turns bodily, his other hand coming to land on Miz’s jaw. His stubble scratches the younger man’s palm, and he lets his fingernails cut a trail down the curve. Miz’s breath catches in his throat.

“This is really fucking weird.” Miz gasps as Daniel starts to lean in. “So fucking weird.” He mumbles, tilting his head a little when he feels Daniel’s breath on his lips. “Super fucking w-”

“Shut up and kiss me, Mike.” Daniel sighs against his lips, pressing them together.

For once, Miz listens.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm cherry-mox on Tumblr! Come bug me!


End file.
